In this age of appearance and image editing, let’s not gloss over it.
Caravan parks with manicured, marked, often artificial lawns, box cabins, glamping structures on wooden platforms, non-communal bathrooms and tidy inner-park curbing are NOT caravan parks.
Upmarket holiday pens perhaps or vacation enclosures for the toffee-nose of trailer trash maybe, but NOT caravan parks.
Yes I know there are always fads, phases and trends when it comes to exercise, but after hitting the mat for a year now and moving from one class a week to attending almost every day, sometimes twice a day, yoga is no longer complementary to my physical regime, but has become my fitness mainstay.
Proving just how far I have transcended, I have conquered the obligatory wheel on the beach pose.
More people than ever before are practising yoga and numbers are growing.
Seriously, yoga is not a new craze, it’s been around for thousands of years so why haven’t I noticed/embraced/sampled it before?
(Who remembers slide classes in aerobics? Yes a FAD!)
But just like one of yoga’s mantras is enlightenment, I have come to profoundly know I am hooked.
So school is out, exams are over, scores are out and kids and parents alike are anxiously awaiting university offers.
It’s time to think about the future.
Plan A, Plan B and even option C are all under consideration and more than ever I am hearing parents say, “insert name, is taking a gap year.”
When Aussie mum Angie Simpson admitted that she resorted to using a black sharpie pen on a number of desperate occasions to “colour in some of her stray, grey hairs” and that when it comes to catering, “her husband cooks some sausages and steaks on the barbie” while she “throws together a salad,” she couldn’t imagine she’d have anything in common with the glamorous and wealthy Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
But when the first episode of the new season of the hit reality show airs next week (Tuesday December 1) there Angie is without a hair out of place and at a fancy, upmarket Italian restaurant, sitting alongside and holding her own with Yolanda Foster, Lisa Rinna and Lisa Vanderpump in a stand-out cameo appearance and making her US television debut.
You MUST buy this month’s edition of the Australian Women’s Weekly- the one with Carrie Bickmore and a massive wreath of red flowers on the cover.
Of course Carrie’s story is moving and certainly cover-worthy, but in amongst the fashion, beauty, recipes and exclusives, there is a tinsel-toned feature on my family as well, which I would unbiasedly suggest, has way more heart.
There are officially only three days left of the school year for graduating students.
For me it’s the final week of a very long plot-twisting, character-driven, full of villains, sometimes a few heroes, angst-riddled, monotonous but never dull, amazingly intriguing and fast-paced drama/thriller/romance/comedy chapter of my life. School is out forever.
But as it inevitably does at this time of year, I was at a luncheon with other mums recently and the conversation turned to schoolies and whether to supply alcohol.
This is not a story about swingers!
It is however about choosing your partners very carefully.
Travel partners that is.
Especially if you decide to share, not just time, but a small sailing boat.
The formal is done.
Exams are looming and valedictorian celebrations are in train.
Soon, all the attention will turn to schoolies week, and it’s not just the kids who are getting excited.
I have a friend heading to Fiji for schoolies week……… with her graduating grade twelve daughter!
My friend is a poolie!
We have the dress that she loves and didn’t cost a fortune.
Make-up and hair appointments are booked.
We are hosting the pre and transport for the arrivals is sorted.
This will be the baby girl of the family’s end of high school celebration and my 10th and final formal or semi-formal.
She will look stunning, and I am thrilled for her.
A far cry from this time two years ago, when I was a dribbling mess of tears, wallowing in self-indulgent sadness about all the lasts my daughter (and by extension myself) were experiencing as the end of high school loomed.
Now with the youngest of my five daughters about to slam shut the last lunchbox lid on school, I am curiously nowhere near as distraught.
And I don’t know why?